Blood Oath
by kagi-chan2
Summary: There are not enough Vex stories, so here we have one, following his thoughts and his mission, good or bad, coward or hero, selfish or selfless. Rating for language, well, it's Vex, may change
1. Chapter 1

_AN: It's been a while, since I wrote a fan fiction, but this series simply inspires me and especially Vex. Not enough stories with him yet, so I try to help a bit with that. Please be merciful with me, English is not my mother tongue, but I try my best. Not betaed, if anyone is interested in the job, please PM me!_

_AN2: WARNING: Spoilers to all aired episodes (atm that would be till episode S04E12)._

_Disclaimer: All rights to Showcase, except the idea of the story._

_Comments are LOVE!_

Blood Oath

„Do you know the feeling of being helpless?

Do you know, how it is, to feel frozen, not be able to move one limb?

Do you know the feeling of having no real clue how to survive?

Do you know, do you know, do you know?"

Being helpless was not something he was still used to, but damn, he knew the feeling too bloody well. Sure, it was a long time ago, centuries, but this feeling; it was burned into his inner core, melted with his pure being. Something that he would never ever get rid of. So he learned to protect himself. Protect his life. He was a survivor and would do, what was necessary.

He would not end like his family, like his father, who he had thought to be useless, before he was proved wrong by the Blood King. His brother, the stern one, but always smiling, even when they were hunted. Or his mother, his sweet mother, strict, very strict, but caring. He still remembered the moment; the light truly left her eyes.

He was at her side, caressing her cheek, missing the hands that had hold him, when he was even younger, that had punished him, when he was naughty, but caressed him later, when his fathers vented his wrath on him. She always had whispered, how he reminded her of her own father, his grandfather.

Someone he never met killed before he was even born, a Trickster, being full of mischief. Those stories had left him longing; this longing to meet someone, who would get him, who would laugh at his jokes or even better, was challenging him. But the longing died with the light in his mother's eyes, when she faded away into nothingness. It was the day he became hard, the day that marked the end of his youth, the day he closed his heart.

Therefore he became a servant of The Dark doing everyone and everything they demanded, everything they wished him to do. Never high on morals, the last bit drained away with those first kills. A mere fledgling, nothing else he was back in those days. The youngest child, his powers had just manifested the summer before. But he was a natural and he learned fast, practised his abilities till no one could resist him. The Elders began to appreciate his talents, appreciating him.

The last of the Mesmer.

He was lucky, that they never started a breeding program, when they realised, how good he was. It was much easier to keep him alive. Alive and alone, no one to have confidence in, no one to trust, no one to rely on. A bit like "Lonesome George", kept and nourished, provided with playthings, everything except true freedom. But he was alive, not like his family, not like any other Mesmer. So he was arranging himself with the situation.

There had always been a slightly sadistic streak in him and oh, an eccentric one as well. If he couldn't feel, he would express himself otherwise. The night terrors had stopped over the years and the screams of his victims where music, the music he truly enjoyed. Their fear, their pain, it was his elixir, it kept him going, it showed him, what he would never ever become.

Over the centuries he learned, that it wasn't enough. Too much pressure, too many things he suppressed. Slowly it sneaked up to him, insanity. Something everyone, who had no real expiring date, feared. His grandmother had gone mad; he remembered her mumblings and her screams.

Mad, bad, dangerous to know, a line he believed to be true about him. But never would he turn into a slobbering, mumbling shell; he fought, he survived, that was his way of life! So he tried to find an outlet, tried to control his mood swings, at least to some degree, a degree that still gave him control.

An encounter with a wicked witch helped him with discovering his outlet. As assassin of the Dark Fae Elders, they had ordered him to execute her for interfering too much in their own businesses. What he hadn't expected was the trap she had set up for him. One moment he was marching into her hut, the next he was hanging upside down; first only his feet bind, just to find his arms secured seconds later. There was this feeling of helplessness that he bloody despised, but when the ropes cut into his flesh and her dagger scratched the skin on his neck, blimey, there was a rush like nothing else before. Of course, he had killed her in the end; she was just a weak human after all.

But the rush had given him an idea and he began to pay women to fulfil his desires and slowly he gained control with giving it up for a short span of time. Not that he stopped having fits of anger or mood swings, but they were controllable, which secured his standing with the Elders. Controlled helplessness, the key to his success.

Today's culture gave him so many outlets; it had overwhelmed him in the beginning. In the 18th century the establishments tending to his needs were hidden, exclusive clubs of the rich and eccentric. Well, there were still some of those around, but overall, it was more established and Goth culture, he had found his perfect haven!

His clubs, they gave him a home, attention besides being feared. Never would he breathe a word about it, but he cherished the position as famous club owner. It amused him to no end, when a young pretty thing tried her or his best to charm him to get into the VIP restricted area.

The Elders valued him even more, too. He had created a perfect cover, a feeding ground and amusement, all in one. There were the various hit jobs for The Morrigan; they made sure, no one forgot that he wasn't just a mad man, but a trained and lethal assassin. As long as they feared him, he was safe.

And than there was his ward, the boy he never wanted, but who had grown onto him. A human, an orphan like himself, well almost an orphan, but with a mother like his, she hardly counted. A father, never the role he had pictured himself in. A killer, an interrogator, a torturer, yes; but a father? Not really his pair of shoes.

Everything, that had happened, proving that he had done a lousy job with it. He wasn't sure, if it was his fault, that the boy was insane or if it was the cursed blood of his mother. Cursed blood, cursed blood oath. Everything came down to blood, even their laws, Blood Laws, thanks to the Blood King, a Blood Sage. Blood being spilled from his mother's mouth.

Today his blood would be spilled. But for a good cause. Not for greed, not for selfish reasons. OK, maybe a bit selfish, but not much. It was for the one who had understood him, the one who was there, the one who saw the little boy, screaming in his loneliness. The one who had melted the ice, for centuries protecting his heart since the day he became the only Mesmer in existence. The one, that revoke the longing again, the one he had betrayed, which caused him more pain, than the torture of the Una Mens.

A bloody human, stronger than most Faes combined, who had a big heart, while being sarcastic and cheeky. Others were allies to the bloody succubus, his alliances lay elsewhere. Oh, not with the Elders and never with The Morrigan, she was just a tolerated, necessary evil. No, if he had to choose, no former blood oath considered, there was only one, he would choose. Kenzi.

And he would help her to become Fae, to take revenge. Blood oaths be damned!

AN3: The line: "Mad, bad, dangerous to know" was said by Caroline Lamb about Lord Byron


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

_AN: First of all: Wow, I'm stunned by the positive reaction! Thank you for reviews, faves and followings! Second, writing part 2 was a bit put on hold, till I could decide for myself, if I'll include the season 4 finale or not. Both would have worked with the beginning of the story. It was a rather difficult decision for me and well, it took me more that a week. I decided, I will include everything but Massimo's end._  
_AN2: I need music to write, beside the written word; music is my life, I can't live without it. So my playlist for this part: Blue Gillespie – Synesthesia, My Chemical Romance – The Black Parade, HIM – Screamworks Love in Theory and Practice, The Rasmus – Dead letters, Jingaku Radio – Bandgirl, Lost Area – From the Ashes_

Disclaimer: All rights to Showcase, except the idea of the story.

Comments are LOVE!

Blood Oath Part II

_"What would you do to survive?_  
_What are you willing to give up?_  
_Would you betray? Would you lie?_  
_Would you hurt others?_  
_Would you give yourself up?_  
_Would you, would you, would you?"_

He was standing on the top of the cliff, watching the Pistyll Rhaeadr, watching the water rushing down the crag. Jumping, licking stones, crushing, pure power trapped in water. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the ancient song. The melody had changed over the centuries, but he could still make out the tune, the whispers of a lullaby like no other.

Maybe nowhere else he felt connected to his past like here. The past, when he was innocent, a past long gone. Today he was a different man, altered since the last time he was here, a different man than just a few months ago. Loosing his powers he had visited all the places he could think of. Travelling the world, making bargains, threatening people, searching for answers.

In the end, he had come back to Wales, Cymru, land of his ancestors. Centuries had passed, since he last touched the ground. But the air was still the same, the number of humans might have grown, there were changes, like everywhere, but the country was still the same. The humans visiting this sacred place always talked about the peace they felt here, the calmness settling over them.

Of course he knew the true reason, the people claiming it was an enchanted place, protected by Faeries, were not wrong. Not totally off at least. A special breed of Fae lived here, feeding on stress, leaving their "victims" calm like after a good round of yoga and he had to admit, he knew from his experiences in India, even when no could imagine him sitting still, meditating, concentrating on finding balance and his inner peace. Those Faeries, they would be a hit in the big cities; all those New Age Junkies would throw their money at them. But no, they were bound to the ground, staying with the soil of their ancestors.

He remembered well, the last time, he had been standing here, the exact same spot, doubting his existence. A tourist had been disturbing his thoughts, coming too close to his site. He had just wanted him gone, spreading his fingers without thinking, wishing him to leave and the man had stopped, turned trotting away. His powers, back after all the time feeling like a cripple. His first feed, ambrosia! Whole again, himself again or so he believed.

Now he was back, trying to find the peace he so desperately needed, but knew wouldn't come to him until he fulfilled his self-imposed mission. All powerful again, he had ate his fill, every cell was bursting. Just his mind was screaming, screaming for the missing piece.

He knew when she had left this world, when the spell casted on her died. The last chips of ice were rushing down the waterfall, leaving him bleeding, lost.

When he tried to regain his powers again, he had contacted so many people. The Norn, well she never liked his guts, his humour as well, they were too much alike and clashing bloody badly. There was nothing he could have offered her that was worth something, at least for her. The tiny, delicate plant; it was not strong enough to be a payment yet. Nothing like the wolf's back than. What would she say today? He was not sure, but he knew, his request today would be denied for completely different reasons. The one with no respect? The one that broke the laws and went against The Norn? Bloody unlikely!

There were others, just who would grant him his wish? Feared, yes, admired, sure; he heard, there was even a fan club to his name. As long as he was useful people did as he requested, well mostly. The time, he was powerless, had been a wakeup call in more than one way. Would anyone do something for him? Selfless, without his services as payment?

Even with all his power, he was actually powerless when it came to the important things and he knew it. He knew it so bloody well. So he had started to dig deeper. Went into the darkest catacombs, ancient texts from the lost library of Alexandria, breaking into to secret vaults of more than one Fae Nation. Ancient Greek myths came close, but the Styx was not his river.

Everything was leading him back to the place soaked with his ancestor's blood. A druid, of course, who else, was the first to give him hope. He had always been a protector of the druids; hence he had trained his ward to become one; a bitter taste on his tongue.

The druid told him about an ancient ritual. Never written down, only an oral tradition. Something nearly forgotten, something not done anymore, something he was mad enough to try. Last of his kind, there was a loophole. If it was true, he had his answer, why the Elders kept him around the way they did.

Last of their kind: willing to bond, willing to share, willing to give, willing to end.

If the other half was estimated worthy, both would live, sharing what they offered, no matter if one was alive or deceased, no matter if human or Fae. One chance, with only two outcomes, not grey area: both would live or both would die.

A deal, that sounded better to him, than The Norn's, only here he was playing with his life. He was a coward; he knew that to be true. Whenever there was a possibility to run, he ran! Not the hero type, his survival was his number one priority. And why not? If he didn't take care of himself, no one else would, would they? Too long that had been true.

Ice blue eyes, in them he had seen something; last received when he was a child.

Honest affection.

They had glimpsed what he kept bottled up removing shell upon shell. Save for the last time, the time he had to avert his gaze to escape the pain in those tear moistened orbs. Feeling his own pain betraying the one he swore to himself to protect.

If had known, that it would be the last time seeing her, would he have acted differently? Be for once the hero? Bollocks, he knew himself too well. She was the true hero, a heroine. Surviving in their world, more or less thrown to the wolves, even though wolves never had been her problem, taming even the wildest beasts. Himself being count in. She touched everyone coming in contact with her changing life itself. At least for him. Not a coward anymore, today he would hold his fort, being brave, being like Kenzi.

Her Katana was heavy in his hand, his palms slightly sweaty. After today Doctor Lewis would have a field day, if, if he could do it. But what was really stopping him? If he died, yes, his line would die out. There would be no Mesmers any more. The world would keep turning, it wasn't revolving around him.

But what would they gain, if he succeeded? Bloody hell, those stuck up bitches wouldn't know what hit them! Alone to see their faces, it would be worth it. That and so much more. Nothing too loose but himself. Not the worst deal.

Gripping the Katana tighter his lips whispered the ancient phrases themselves. Slowly he moved the blade without risking a glance, summoning the old gods, the powers to be, asking his ancestors for the true gift. The first drops of crimson mixed with the rushing waters, when he asked for his mate. His blood flowing freely, a runlet among the river glowing bright red. His true Blood Oath, his true vow.

Slowly drifting, nevertheless his senses sharper than ever, he could hear the song of the waterfall changing. The mumbling becoming clearer, mere whispers turning into voices, laugher ringing in his ears.

He was Vex, last of the Mesmer and today he was offering himself.

The colours hollow, the world fading, he could spot something in the spray. No someone was standing there and while he fell down the cliff, there was only one thought on his lips:

"Luv'."

Kenzi.

AN3: The Pistyll Rhaeadr waterfall is really beautiful. On youtube you can find lovely videos


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry for the delay.. I expected some delay, since I went on a short trip with a lovely friend, but than I got sick and super busy and after I got healthy again, there were several private things happening… but now I'm good, got my dose of Mesmer and can write again, with my cat curled against my back…And well, while I'm writing this, I know that I'll meet the man himself in less than a week. Knowing this, I have to write, we will see how I'll write after meeting Paul Amos. (^_^)y

AN2: Music this time: Penicillin – Black Hole, HIM – Greatest Lovesongs 666, Kaya – Glitter, My Chemical Romance - Danger Days True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, Eminem – The Eminem Show (Mix it Baby!)

Disclaimer: All rights to Showcase, except the idea of the story.

Comments are LOVE!

Blood Oath Part 3

_"__If you were always alone, how can you face being with someone?_  
_If you could never trust anyone, how can you learn to be honest?_  
_If you never depended on another person, how can you share your load?_  
_If you, if you, if you…how can you?_"

Droplets of water on his face, his still wet face, was the first things he could take in, when the fog surrounding all his thoughts slowly dissolved. It was like having his head surrounded by cotton candy balls. Sweet smelling, but deafening. But there was something else, something besides the rushing of the water. A sound, fighting against this dominating noise, just faint, just a like a whisper and he tried his best to figure out, what it was saying. He took a breath, a deep breath swallowing the humid air, concentrating hard, before he could make out a voice he thought lost forever. Sweet, sweet melodious music…

"You stupid asshole! Wake up, wake up! Cliff jumping, back stabbing idiot! Wake up! Fuck you; you just want to get kissed! Wake up! You are no fucking princess! Even when I'm like the total bad ass, maiden saving hero! WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

…or not. A heavy blow on his chest let him cringe, finally opening his eyes to a sight, he hardly could believe seeing in front of him. There she was, his dishevelled Goth princess. Her real hair, wet flowing around her face, her eyes bloodshot and full of, full of tears? No, that couldn't be right. Or were the droplets, no that simply couldn't be, were it, were it really her tears? For him?

"Bloody hell, don't scream so loud luv', I think I just nearly died!"

Another punch, this time a lot stronger, but seriously, he didn't mind it. Hell, she could whip him any day, but being here with him he would allow her everything she felt like doing. She was here!

"Well, I was dead! That," Punch, "is no fucking," another punch, "excuse!"

He could only look at her, look at her and begin to smile, before he had to laugh, not his maniac laugh, but the one for her, the happy one, the fun having one only she heard, only she caused. His hand moved without him giving it any thought, reaching for her tearstained cheek.

"Sorry luv'. I was always a coward, took to loose ya to, well… sorry…"

The hand fell down, his eyes closing again, not able to stand the look, that probably accused him of every single crime he ever committed or only his worst, not helping her but leaving her broken, betraying her trust.

"Sorry…"

A mere whisper, but his throat was closing, he was so bloody weak, a spineless bastard, only purpose to make others miserable. Miserable like himself. Surviving, the thing he was good at, no matter what.

"You, you brought me back, didn't you? Didn't you Vex, Vexter?"

Her voice was shivering, nearly as unsure as the day he had seen her the last time. Not believing again, that something he did, truly happened. Just this time it was good, this time he did the right thing, maybe for the first time in his life. No, he had done it before, for her, always for her. The Garuda, the piggies, the Morrigan.

"Had to try, heard the Robot hookers took over! Without you kicking their arses, well, they got cheeky! You know, the bad ass, maiden saving hero was missing."

His grin was wide, the feeling so good, it was like being alive again even lying here, completely soaked in the dirt. This certain spark that had been absent, it was back. One girl, one mere human, but she glowed so bright in her dark beauty. One look at her and he knew, everything had been worth it, all the travelling, the grovelling, the begging. She was worth it, that and so much more!

And the genuine smile he got in return, bloody gorgeous! She was really here, with him! Take that succubus! He so ruled! Win for the Mesmer. It was hard to believe, but he did, what no other had done before. Getting his perfect girl back from the dead.

"Fuck, you are really lost without me, are you? Ah well, perfection is not replaceable! I'll take care of those scary bitches, when we are home!"

She was petting his head, while her gaze began to wander leaving his wet form looking around, taking in the area, the waterfall and the wild beauty of the countryside.

"Uhm, Vexter, I do have the feeling we are not in Kansas any more...Where the hell are we?"

Sparkling ice blue eyes full of question, questions he could understand. She died in battle to wake up here; everyone would be full of questions.

"You are not dead, too? Don't tell me, not having me around let you kick the bucket? I know I'm awesome, but..." words dying on her lips, her face a mask of pain.

Vex pushed himself up, trying to stand, a story like that had to be told looking into each others eyes. He was swaying a bit; he gave so much up, he was so weak, but knowing that his plan had succeeded; weakness he could fight and overcome, but for now, it might be better to just sit. So he took Kenzi's hand, pulling her down to him, sitting down.

"No, no luv'. I'm alive, good as new, OK; I've been better, but worse, too. I'll survive, I always do and from now on...I guess so will ya. You are back and this, well, welcome to the land of my ancestors, humble background, I know. But yeah..."

A hand ran through the unruly mass of black he called a hair cut. Everything was new, everything was weird. Being out of words was something he could rarely say about himself, today was indeed a day full of surprises.

"What do you mean? From now on so will I? Vex, what did you do? What type of wicked deal did you make?"

She knew the Fae world too well, nothing without a price, nothing for free and if something looked too good, there were probably a million buts in the footnotes.

"Am I a zombie? Oh please, not a zombie, they are decaying and I don't want to loose body parts and grey-green is so not my skin colour. So not cool! I want to be something awwwwsome!"

Her hands lay protecting over her breasts; the fear about loosing the girls was obvious far too prominent on her mind. Vex couldn't help but grin again. Oh, they would have so much fun!

"How does Mesmer sound to ya? Cool enough?"

Alone so to see Kenzi's jaw drop, it would have been so worth it! The gaping fish mouth a few seconds later was even better. A speechless Kenzi, oh he was so on a run today! He knew he shouldn't do it, but it was so bloody tempting, that he moved a bit closer to her, a finger closing her mouth slowly.

"You my dear were always born to mesmer, so from today on, with a bit practise, you will do exactly that. I bound you to me and the result is a living you and yeah, what should I say, welcome to the top shelves, you are Fae now."

"Vex, I…be a gentleman!"

And just moments later he was thanking all ancestors again, that he was so close to Kenzi, barely catching her, before she collapsed, taking him again into the mud.

"Oh luv', I know, I'm enchanting, but ya don't need to pass out on me!"


End file.
